


Some Things Are More Important

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1537361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://muffinbuttblainers.tumblr.com/">muffinbuttblainers</a> prompted: BLAINE HAS A COLD OR THE FLU AND FEELS LIKE SHIT AND THINKS KURT WONT BE HOME TO TAKE CARE OF HIM BUT KURT GETS OFF WORK EARLY AND NURSES BLAINE AND IS SUPER SWEET AND CUDDLY WIWBALEBALABSQ</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Are More Important

It's not even the worst cold he's ever had, but it's still bad enough to make him feel like shit. His head hurts and he can't breathe through his nose which means his throat is getting sore too and he feels too cold and then too warm and his _bones_ hurt. Especially the ones in his fingers. And the skin on the inside of his elbows. Being sick is _weird_. Also, his legs feel funny and moving too fast makes him dizzy and after staring at the kitchen cabinets for a good ten minutes, he finally decides to give up on the experiment of making tea and just go back to bed instead.

 

The bed is big and empty and cold without Kurt, but Kurt is at rehearsal and that's important and Blaine is so so _so_ proud of his wonderful amazing beautiful husband and it's okay if he has no one to make him tea right now, he'll just get some more sleep instead. Still, he feels miserable and alone and everything hurts and he's _miserable_. And he'll never be able to sleep anyway because no position is comfortable enough and he can't bring himself to roll onto his other side because his body is so heavy, so heavy...

 

He wakes still aching and now too hot under the covers, the t-shirt he wore to sleep is sticky with sweat and clinging uncomfortably to his sensitive, sleep-raw skin. With a groan he manages to roll over and take a look at the alarm clock – Kurt's only been at rehearsal for three hours and won't be back for another few hours at least. And his throat is seriously feeling too dry now and he's thirsty and besides, fluids are supposed to help, right?

 

Dragging himself out of bed is slow and painful and, sitting on the edge of the bed and wincing as his toes make contact with the too cold floorboards, he does take a short moment to feel sorry for himself. But then he finally heaves himself up and shuffles back into the kitchen to finally get that tea he wanted two hours ago.

 

Finally back in bed with a mug full of steaming hot chamomile tea on the night stand, he closes his eyes for just a minute, body sinking heavily into the mattress. Everything takes so much effort, this just really sucks, and he really feels horrible and disgusting and tired and achy.

 

And he wishes Kurt were here. Everything is always better when Kurt is with him. But Kurt has a job being awesome and amazing and Blaine knows he's being selfish wanting him to come home, Kurt has to rehearse for his play. So that he can be incredible and wonderful on stage and everyone can see it. It wouldn't be fair to deprive the world of Kurt's amazingness just because Blaine hurts and feels so very cold and lonely and sad.

 

He rolls onto his side and curls himself into a tiny ball of misery and shivers. Being sick is the _worst_.

 

He wakes up to gentle fingers stroking his hair and something warm and a little wet against his forehead. Something that feels like a kiss. Slowly and with great effort, he blinks his eyes open, only to be met with the most beautiful sight in the whole entire world.

 

“Kurt,” he croaks.

 

Kurt smiles down at him, corners of his mouth twitching in sympathy as Blaine shivers again. “Oh darling,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

 

Blaine attempts a smile, knowing it probably doesn't look very convincing. “Better already,” he promises. “How was rehearsal?”

 

Kurt shrugs. “I convinced them I had to leave early. I just felt so bad about leaving you all by yourself this morning.”

 

Blaine is confused for a second, then realizes what Kurt just said. “Wait, what time is it?”

 

“A little after three,” Kurt tells him. “You didn't drink any of your tea, was that your first cup? You have to stay hydrated, sweetheart.”

 

Blaine shakes his head at him. “Your show! You have to go back! I'll be fine, but you can't miss your rehearsal, you promised me a ticket for your opening night -”

 

“It's fine,” Kurt assures him softly. “You are more important to me right now. Besides. Half our cast is coughing and sniffling anyway, apparently flu season is starting? I wasn't the only one begging to be let out early today.”

 

“You're not getting sick are you?” Blaine asks, worried. God, he can't stand it when Kurt is sick, his beautiful Kurt all pale and miserable, the thought alone hurts his heart. “Don't want you to get sick too!”

 

“I'm okay,” Kurt says, leans down to press another lingering kiss to Blaine's gross sweaty forehead. “I'll make you a new cup of tea, just get some more rest. I'll be right back.”

 

He cups Blaine's cheek with one hand, thumb softly tracing Blaine's cheekbone before he reaches for the mug with the now cold tea.

 

“I love you,” Blaine manages. Every word still hurts his throat, but this is important.

 

Kurt's face goes soft, so much affection in his eyes as he looks down at Blaine again. “I love you too. You know I do.”

 

Blaine drifts in and out of sleep while Kurt makes tea and changes into sweatpants and opens the window for a minute to let in some fresh air. He opens his eyes again when Kurt slides under the covers next to him, sitting up against the headboard and helping Blaine sit up too.

 

“Let's get some fluids into you and then you can sleep a bit more,” he suggests, fluffing the pillow for Blaine and sliding it between Blaine's back and the headboard to make him more comfortable.

 

“Don't know if I can sleep anymore,” Blaine admits and takes the mug Kurt offers him, carefully taking a sip. Drinking something actually feels great. “Thanks for the tea.”

 

“I could get the laptop and we can watch funny puppy videos on YouTube.”

 

“Maybe later. I kind of – just want to sit here. If that's okay.”

 

Kurt nods. “Whatever you need. I just want you to feel better.”

 

“I can't believe you came home just because I have a cold.”

 

Kurt kisses his shoulder, lets out a quiet little laugh. “I know it's probably silly, we'll both get many more colds in our lives and we can't always drop everything and anything every time. But _god_ , Blaine, you should have seen yourself when I left this morning, it almost broke my heart.” He's quiet for a minute, then laughs again, voice low and almost embarrassed. “I kept checking my phone all the time to see if you had texted me and said you needed anything, everyone totally made fun of me when I said it was only a cold. I think they thought you were dying. But I just – I felt so bad leaving you alone when you felt so terrible.”

 

Blaine slowly finishes his tea, puts the mug on the night stand on his side of the bed before he lets himself fall sideways, resting against his husband's shoulder. “I still can't believe you left rehearsal for me.”

 

“It might have been a bit of an overreaction. But, for the record, I'm not sorry and I'd do it again.”

 

“You're insane. And wonderful. Thank you.”

 

“Do you want to lie down?”

 

Blaine nods against Kurt's shoulder. “Yeah.”

 

They shuffle around until Kurt's on his back, arms securely around Blaine, Blaine's head pillowed on Kurt's chest just over his heart.

 

“Get some rest,” Kurt whispers. “You'll feel better when you wake up.”

 

“Not tired,” Blaine protests, just before he drifts off to sleep.

 

**

 

Kurt helps him move to the couch late in the afternoon, piles blankets on top of him and arranges pillows until Blaine is absolutely comfortable (and absolutely unable to move), and then goes to change the sweat-soaked sheets on their bed. Afterwards, he helps Blaine take a shower – which is not really necessary, Blaine is feeling a lot less fuzzy and completely able to stand up and even wash himself on his own, but having Kurt right there with him, holding him up and washing his hair and kissing the wet, naked skin of his back that's still so hyper-sensitive from being tired and from having this stupid cold … that's definitely better.

 

Everything feels sort of infinitely better once he's clean and wearing fresh pajamas and sitting on the couch wrapped in a fluffy robe instead of lying in bed. Kurt heats up some soup and insists on feeding him which makes them both giggle helplessly and makes more soup spill onto Blaine's robe and the floorboards than make its way into Blaine's mouth. In the end, Kurt surrenders the spoon and Blaine eats by himself while Kurt goes and makes himself a sandwich.

 

Blaine insists on staying in the living room for a while longer – he can't make Kurt go to bed at eight-thirty when Kurt isn't even sick, and their bodies are running on a schedule adjusted to theater hours, they're never in bed this early.

 

So they cuddle up on the couch, Kurt wrapping Blaine in another thick blanket and then pulling him close, watching TV with Blaine curled up against his side. Blaine still feels pretty awful – his entire body hurts and he's so very tired, but his Kurt is here holding him, kissing his hair, being there for him.

 

And yes, being sick is still the worst, but Blaine feels so safe and so loved and so cared for, and he can't even imagine how horrible he'd be feeling if he didn't have Kurt to be worried about him and spill soup on his robe.

 

“Are you sure you don't want to go to bed?” Kurt asks.

 

Blaine shakes his head, face rubbing over Kurt's chest. “'m fine. Not even tired.”

 

**

 

Kurt wakes him with gentle kisses, and Blaine is confused for a second – it feels like he's been asleep for no more than a few minutes, but judging from how the light in the room has changed, it must have been longer than that.

 

“Do you want to go to bed now?” Kurt asks, and Blaine gives up fighting his own exhaustion. Funny that he can still be so tired after sleeping all day.

 

“Okay. Yes.”

 

Kurt keeps his arms safely around him all the way to the bathroom, making sure he doesn't trip and fall in his sleepy haze, and they brush their teeth side by side, Blaine swaying on his feet a little as sleep tries to pull him back under.

 

He crawls into bed, keeps his eyes closed as he listens to Kurt shuffling around the room, putting away clothes and finally turning off the lights and slipping under the covers next to Blaine.

 

It's a practiced move, Kurt sliding close to Blaine's side of the bed and Blaine rolling into him, throwing an arm and a leg over him and burying his face against Kurt's pajama-clad chest. He just loves being close to him when he falls asleep, needs the sound of his breathing and the rise and fall of his chest and the scent of his skin. Not that he can actually smell anything right now, but this is still comfort, this is familiar, this is _them_.

 

“Thanks for taking care of me today,” Blaine mumbles. “You're still crazy for leaving rehearsal.”

 

Kurt chuckles and Blaine smiles as the movement of it jogs his head on Kurt's chest. “You're welcome. And it's not like you haven't done the same for me before.”

 

“Everything's better when you're here,” Blaine admits.

 

“I just hope you feel better soon,” Kurt says, caressing his shoulder and pressing another lingering kiss to his forehead. “I need you to get better so I don't get fired.”

 

“Can't let that happen,” Blaine agrees. “Hope you don't catch this thing from me.”

 

“In that case, I'd have to divorce you,” Kurt informs him.

 

“Nuh-uh.” Blaine forces his eyes open again, blinking up at him. “It's _in sickness and in health_. You promised.”

 

Kurt sighs. “Dammit, forgot to read the fine print again, did I? Well. Guess you're stuck with me then.”

 

Blaine grins. “Oh no. I guess you're right. What am I going to do?”

 

“Stop talking and go to sleep,” Kurt suggests. “And try not to drool on me, I'm wearing fresh pajamas.”

 

“I can't help it, I can't breathe through my nose,” Blaine complains.

 

“Excuses, excuses.” Kurt sighs. “Fine, drool on me, but I'll do the same if I get this plague from you.”

 

“I love you,” Blaine tells him.

 

Kurt takes his hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around Blaine's. “Love you too. Even when you're all gross and sick and disgusting.”

 

“You truly are the last of the great romantics,” Blaine laughs.

 

“I think that title is reserved for you, my darling,” Kurt answers, voice soft with a mix of fondness and amusement.

 

Despite feeling horrible and exhausted and gross, Blaine smiles as he falls asleep.


End file.
